


Dark Charm

by chrmisha



Series: Charmed [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rape, Romance, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-25
Updated: 2017-09-01
Packaged: 2018-12-19 21:39:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11906727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chrmisha/pseuds/chrmisha
Summary: A heart-rending story about the price of war and what Harry Potter and Severus Snape must battle through to come together in the end. Pre & Post-war, HP/SS, Slash. (I do not own Harry Potter. All credit goes to JK Rowling.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a devastatingly sad fic, but it’s raw and honest and I love it. It does have a happy ending—I can’t stand the emotional investment to be anything other. 
> 
> It contains mentions of rape, but only the after-effects, no description of the actual event. And good happy slash afterwards, eventually :-).
> 
> I do not own Harry Potter. All credit goes to JK Rowling.

Tonight was going to be the night. Harry Potter rubbed his hands together, determined to finally get Severus Snape to admit his feelings for him. They’d been down this road before—twice now, actually.

The first time, Severus had pushed Harry away because he’d claimed Harry was too young having just finished school at the age of 17—much too young to know what he wanted out of life. But, as the war raged like some demented game of chess, each side progressing but neither winning, Harry knew that no one was guaranteed a future, and he had done and seen more than most adults.

So, when he returned to the castle at 18, to take up the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, he made another attempt. Which was going swimmingly well, until Severus had been summoned by the Dark Lord. Harry wasn’t sure what had happened at that meeting, but something clearly had, because when Severus returned, he was distant and distracted. It had taken Harry nearly six months to break down his defenses and get back to where they had been before that blasted meeting.

And dammit, tonight was going to be the night that he got up the nerve to kiss Severus Snape and show the man how good it could be between them. He just needed Severus to give him a chance. Just one chance. Because for all his bluff and bluster, Severus clearly had the hots for Harry, too.

Harry had seen it in the flush of his cheeks, the longing gazes, the barely there touches, the hold-your-breath intimate moments that _almost_ turned into kisses before Severus shook his head, stepped back, and scuttled away. Why Severus was holding back, Harry had no idea. But tonight he had every intention of changing that.

Harry had taken extra care with his appearance, going so far as to have his hair trimmed earlier that day. He’d showered, shaved, splashed on some cologne, and beneath his best set of robes which were just shy of dress robes, he’d worn form-fitting black trousers and a green button-down dress shirt to bring out the color of his eyes. He also put on the necklace he’d worn last time, the one he’d caught Severus staring at, whether because it lay in the open vee of his collar, or because it had a snake head and a lion head on it, their mouths open, as if challenging one another. Which was rather what Harry and Severus’s relationship seemed like to him—a series of challenges to be overcome.

As was their custom, Harry made his way down to Severus’s chambers to celebrate the completion of another week of teaching, another week nearer the end of the school year. He came bearing Severus’s favorite: _vin chaud_ , a honey-mulled wine with oranges, cinnamon, and spice, served warm and typically around Christmas. As it was February, it was a bit past the holidays, but snow covered the grounds and the bitter wind blew through the castle, chilling the dungeons to what felt like sub-zero temperatures. Thank Merlin for warming charms.

Harry took a deep breath, plucked up his courage, and knocked on Severus’s door. Severus opened it and seemed momentarily at a loss for words as he looked Harry up and down. Harry felt his body heat at the blatant interest in Severus’s eyes. Severus, who wore black trousers and a long-sleeve white button down shirt with the arms rolled up to the man’s elbows. Severus, who looked simply delectable.

“Severus,” Harry greeted him.

“Harry,” Severus returned with a curt nod.

It had taken months to get Severus to call him by his given name.

Harry handed Severus his offering and Severus took it with a raised brow.

“I picked it up special this morning,” Harry said.

Severus opened the brown paper bag and peered inside, a look of unexpected pleasure gracing his harsh features. “This will do,” he pronounced.

Harry beamed.

“Come along, dinner is almost ready,” Severus said.

Harry pulled off his outer robes and followed Severus into the small kitchen, where a table and two chairs sat. The table had already been set. When Severus set the paper bag down, Harry pulled out the mulled wine, set the carafe it came in on a stone, and cast a warming charm on it. Then he poured each of them a glass of water and took his seat.

Severus brought out a steaming dish that smelled delicious. “Lamb stew,” he said.

Harry moaned. “You know how I love your lamb stew,” Harry said, feeling his mouth water in anticipation.

“I might have remembered,” Severus admitted, putting a large dollop on Harry’s plate.

Harry grinned and poured them both a generous amount of mulled wine.

Conversation was easy and casual as they fell into their routine of discussing their classes the previous week. It was always a contest to see whose student had done or said the stupidest thing, which student had surprised them most with a hitherto-unknown stroke of brilliance, who had lost the most house points, or who had ended up in the hospital wing.

This was what Harry lived for, these Friday nights spent in Severus’s quarters, their easy banter, their soft glances, their accidental touches.

When Harry dimmed the sconces in the room, Severus raised a brow but refrained from commenting.

“I have something else for you,” Harry murmured.

Severus’s expression faltered but, when Harry summoned something from the other room—something that turned out to be an apple-peach cobbler—Severus’s favorite, Harry knew—the look on Severus’s face made Harry want to get up and kiss him right then and there.

Instead, Harry forced himself to cut the pie into large slices, sliding one easily onto Severus’s plate.

When Severus took his first bite, he closed his eyes and bit back a moan. Harry felt his arousal skyrocket; _he_ wanted to be the one to cause that reaction in Severus.

“You like it, then?” Harry asked, his voice breathless.

Severus gave him a look that plainly said that that was the stupidest thing Harry had said all night, and Harry laughed.

When they were sated with good food and wine and dessert, Harry got to his feet.

Severus made to follow, but Harry laid a hand on his shoulder. “Let me,” he said.

Harry proceeded to gather up the dishes and place them in the sink under a washing spell. He left the mulled wine in case Severus wanted any more. Then he placed the remaining lamb stew—there was very little left, actually—on the cooker under a refrigeration charm.

When he turned around, Severus was standing there, facing him, a hair’s breadth away. Harry caught his breath as their eyes met. Uncertainty, and something akin to determination, flared in Severus’s gaze. Harry pitched headlong into those dark, enchanting eyes, desire and kinship and something else that made him giddy with happiness filled his insides. _This_ was his chance. And Severus wasn’t skittering away.

Harry leaned forward and brushed his lips against Severus’s, feather-light and gentle, his gaze never leaving the other wizard’s.

Severus’s breath hitched and his lips parted.

Harry leaned in closer, his own lips parted, tongue ready to taste the man he’d had a crush on for longer than he cared to admit. Harry slid his hands onto Severus’s shoulders as his lips brushed against Severus’s once, twice, three times.

Severus’s eyes were wide with wonder as he flicked his tongue out to taste Harry. Groaning, Harry titled his head, eager to return Severus’s kiss, his tongue jutting out gently to meet Severus’s. The moment their tongues made contact, Harry felt his insides swoop with delight. His fingers tightened fractionally on Severus’s shoulders as he pulled the older man closer until their bodies were nearly touching.

And then Harry was on his arse on the floor, his bum smarting, and Severus was pressed up against the wall, bent at the waist, holding his arms to his stomach and swearing under his breath.

“What the fuck, Severus?” Harry said, pushing himself to his feet, frustration warring with hurt.

When Severus raised his head, Harry felt his insides burn. He looked from the man’s haunted, pained expression to the left forearm clutched in his right hand.

“Go,” Severus hissed.

“Fuck!” Harry spat.

“Just go, Harry. Don’t make this any worse than it already is.”

Harry turned on his heel, stomped to the door and threw it open, angry tears burning his eyes. As soon as the door snapped shut behind him, he knew he’d made a mistake.

“Fuck,” he said again, sliding down to the flagstones, his back to the wooden door. He pulled his knees to his chest and buried his face, tears heating his cheeks as they fell. Six months. Six fucking months wasted, if last time was anything to go by. Severus would return and he’d push Harry away. Again. For whatever stupid reason Harry hadn’t managed to extract from the man. “Fuck,” he said again, slamming his fist on the cold stones beneath him.

An image of Severus’s face swam before his eyes—the picture of misery. This wasn’t Severus’s fault. If anything, Harry should have been more sympathetic to the man’s plight. Surely it wasn’t easy to play the spy. And yet here Harry was, feeling sorry for _himself_ , because _his_ plans had been ruined. Which was _nothing_ compared to how Severus must be feeling, walking into the Dark Lord’s den of despair and depravity.

Harry dashed his tears away, angry at himself. He pushed himself to his feet. If Severus thought Harry was going to let Severus push him away again, just because of some stupid meeting, he was sorely mistaken. Harry’d tell Severus that he’d gone back for his robe if Severus required some reason for Harry’s presence in his quarters. Resolved, Harry pulled out his wand, squared his shoulders, and prepared to hex Severus’s door down if he had to. He slammed his hand against the solid wood, ready to shove it open the moment one of his spells worked, only to have the door creak open at his touch.

“What the…”

The door wasn’t locked. Or warded. And that was not like Severus at all.

Harry let himself in, locking and warding the door behind him.

“Severus?” he called, knowing the man wouldn’t be there.

Had Severus left the door unlocked for Harry? In case Harry returned? Perhaps as an apology? Harry doubted it. Severus took Moody’s old saying to heart: _constant vigilance._ The fact that Severus had _not_ locked and warded his door left Harry feeling quite unnerved.

Shaking his head, he made his way to the kitchen and finished cleaning up. He spell-dried the dishes and put them away. He wiped down the table and worktops. He tidied whatever else he could find. When all was done, he returned to the study to wait for Severus’s return.

He managed to sit on the couch for all of ten minutes before he was up and pacing around. Harry wasn’t good at waiting. He didn’t like to think about what the Death Eaters got up to at their meetings. He certainly didn’t want to think about what Severus got up to. If Severus was torturing someone, or being tortured. Either scenario was unbearable.

Sighing, Harry walked to Severus’s bookshelves and looked for something to occupy his time. There were a variety of advanced potions texts, of course, as well as books on offensive and defensive magic, the dark arts, tomes on the history of various Wizarding wars and, much to Harry’s surprise, a small section of Muggle literature. Intrigued, Harry pulled out a fairly short novel, _The Magic Garden_ , plopped down on the sofa, and began to read. As the hour waned and a chill settled in, he summoned his robes, using them as a makeshift blanket. 

He was just dozing off when the fire flared to life.

Harry sat up, dazed, as Severus, in a swirl of black robes, stumbled into the room, his Death Eater mask falling from his fingers to clatter against the stone floor.

Then, much to Harry’s shock and bewilderment, Severus fell to his knees and dropped his head into his hands. He was shaking so violently his teeth chattered. Moments later, a sound like a wounded animal tore from Snape’s throat and rent the air.


	2. Chapter 2

“Severus…” Harry called out, rushing to the man’s side.

Severus’s head jerked up, confusion quickly replaced by rage appearing on his face. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“I… I forgot my cloak,” Harry mumbled lamely, startled by the look of absolute fury in Severus’s eyes.

“Get out!” Severus bellowed.

“I…” Harry began, feeling wrong-footed.

“OUT!”

Harry took a step back, then another. Then reason stopped him.

“No,” Harry said, crossing his arms over his chest. “We are not doing this again.”

“ _WE_ are not doing anything!” Severus shouted. “Now get out, before I curse you into oblivion.”

Harry stepped boldly forward. “You are going to have to curse me then. I am _not_ leaving.”

Severus whipped his wand out and pointed it at Harry’s chest, his lip curling in distaste.

Harry held his ground, silently daring Severus to make good on his threat.

And then Harry watched as not only Severus’s wand fell, but his mask as well. Pain and anguish took the place of anger and Severus collapsed in on himself, that horrible wounded animal sound escaping from his mouth once again.

Harry knelt beside him and put a cautious hand on the bowed wizard’s shoulder. Severus flinched.

In a reedy voice, Severus rasped, “Just go, Harry.” A sharp gasp and then, in a quieter, more desperate voice: “Please.”

The entreaty in Severus’s tone almost made Harry reconsider. But he couldn’t leave Severus like this. Reaching out, he gently cupped Severus’s chin and pulled his face up, taking in the livid bruise on his cheek, the purpling eye, the trembling lower lip, the deathly pallor, the tear-streaked face.

“You’re hurt,” Harry breathed.

Severus cursed and pulled away.

“Come on, let’s get you to bed,” Harry said, helping Severus to his feet. Which were bare. As were the man’s legs. Harry felt his knees lock as he noticed the blood that ran down the inside of Severus’s legs and blossomed into a growing puddle on the floor. Eyes widening in horror, Harry’s gaze continued up the man’s black robes to find them torn and shredded, up his bruised neck, and finally, up to Severus’s hard, stony eyes.

“Happy now?” Severus sneered, pushing Harry away from him. “Got what you came for? Want to have a go at me now, too?” he snarled, an injured animal lashing out.

Severus stumbled toward his bedroom. Harry stared after him, momentarily dumbfounded. A trail of blood followed in Severus’s wake and Harry felt a wave of nausea crash over him.

Shaking himself, Harry uttered softly, “No, not like that.” He caught up to Severus and eased the wizard into his bed, sitting beside him. “Never like that.”

Severus rolled away from Harry, curling up on his side facing the wall.

Harry placed a gentle hand on Severus’s shoulder and cautiously rubbed light circles on the man’s back.

“I admit I’ve thought about it,” Harry said, “but I always envisioned it as mutual.” Harry shook his head; it was probably the wrong thing to say at a time like this.

“You need to see Madam Pomfrey.”

“No.”

“Severus, you’re bleeding.”

“I just need some blood replenishing potion. It’s on my dresser, if you wouldn’t mind.”

Harry sighed, not surprised. He went to the dresser and found the potion. He grabbed a few different pain relieving potions as well, not sure which one would be best. At the last minute, he caught sight of a vial that simply had the word Crucio on it, and brought that one over as well.

Severus accepted the vials, sorted through them, and drank three of them: the blood replenisher, a medium-strength pain potion, and the one marked Crucio. Harry bit his lip to keep himself from commenting.

Harry frowned down at the pool of darkness spreading out around Severus’s waist. Gritting his teeth, Harry steeled himself and said, “It’s me or Poppy. Take your pick.”

“What are you talking about?” Severus snapped.

“Someone needs to take a look at you, Severus. I’d recommend Madam Pomfrey as she knows a whole lot more about healing charms than I do. But if you won’t let her tend to you, then it’s going to have to be me.”

Severus glanced over his shoulder, his eyes shining with anger and betrayal, his lips compressed into a thin line.

“Hate me all you want, Severus. I’m not going to let you bleed to death.” He gave Severus a moment to let that sink in before saying, “So who’s it going to be? Me or Poppy?”

Severus closed his eyes and Harry could see the man clenching his jaw, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he swallowed.

Finally, in a voice Harry could barely hear, Severus whispered, “Poppy.”

“Good choice,” Harry said. As Harry made to leave, a hand gripped his wrist, hard and unforgiving.

“Please,” Severus said, his eyes pleading. “Please, I can’t… she can’t…”

Harry paused and sat down beside Severus on the bed. “What is it?”

“Sedate me, will you? I can’t bear…” Severus looked away, unable to continue, but Harry understood. Severus didn’t want Poppy to see him like this and, if she had to, then he didn’t want to be awake to know about it.

“Of course,” Harry said, smoothing a loose strand of hair from Severus’s face. “Potion or spell?”

“Spell,” Severus rasped.   

Harry nodded. “Noctis,” he whispered. Then he bent down, kissed the unconscious wizard softly on his brow, and made his way to the Floo to summon Poppy.

* * *

Severus awoke to a dull ache in his bum and the sound of… snoring? As his eyes adjusted to the dim light of the fire burning in the grate, he glanced around, seeing Harry asleep in a chair beside his bed. The young man looked worried, even in sleep.

“Harry,” he called, but his voice came out hoarse and unintelligible. He cleared his throat and tried again. “HARRY!”

This time, Harry jerked awake, automatically reaching for his wand. When Harry’s eyes met his, the younger man said, “Oh, you’re awake.” Harry got to his feet and came around to his side of the bed, sitting near him. “How are you feeling?”

“Brilliant,” Severus said.

“Sorry, stupid question,” Harry said. He glanced at the clock on the wall.

“Poppy left you some potions. She said you’re to take them every six hours.” Harry rummaged through the vials on the nightstand, finding the ones he wanted and handing them to Severus. “She said I didn’t need to wake you for the next dose but, since you’re already awake, you might as well take them now.”

“Why are you still here?” Severus asked.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because it’s the middle of the night and, last I knew, you had your own quarters,” Severus said dryly.

Harry gave him a sly grin. “I happen to like yours quarters more. You see, there’s this grouchy old wizard that I quite fancy, and he happens to live in them. So,” Harry shrugged his shoulders, “I’m still here.”

Severus downed the potions in lieu of answering.

Harry reached out and put a tentative hand on Severus’s shoulder.

“Don’t,” Severus said.

Harry let out a breath and took his hand back. “Do you want me to go?”

“You should return to your quarters,” Severus replied.

“That’s not what I asked,” Harry said.

“If I kick you out, are you going to storm back in here first thing in the morning?”

“You can bet your life on it,” Harry said.

Severus rolled his eyes and let out a sigh. Lifting the covers beside him, Severus said, “Get in, then.”

Surprised, Harry stared dumbly at Severus for a moment. Then, not wanting to waste such a precious opportunity, he jumped to his feet, walked around the bed, and slid in next to Severus.

“Rules, Harry. Don’t touch me while I sleep and no snoring.”

“Yes, sir,” Harry said around a smile.

Severus rolled over and looked at him, longing and sadness in his gaze.

“What is it?” Harry asked, yearning to reach out and touch the man but knowing it wouldn’t be welcome right now.

Severus just shook his head and closed his eyes, effectively shutting Harry out.

Harry lay awake a long time after Severus’s breathing evened out. He wanted to run his fingers along the planes of Severus’s harsh face, smooth his hand over the man’s lank hair, run a palm down his shoulder. But Severus had asked him not to touch him in his sleep and, after all the man had been through, Harry would give him whatever he needed to heal.

* * *

When Harry awoke in the morning, Severus’s side of the bed was empty. Feeling disproportionately disappointed, Harry slipped out of bed, made use of the loo, then went to find Severus.

The black-haired wizard was sitting at the small table, head bowed, hands wrapped around a mug of coffee.

Harry stood in the doorway, not quite sure what to say.

“Sit down, Potter,” Severus said.

Harry cringed. It had been a long time since Severus had called him that.

“Ask your questions, and then leave me in peace.”

“I’m not leaving,” Harry said, arms crossed over his chest as he stood, refusing the chair.

The cup in Severus’s hands shattered. Harry jumped, his wand out, already reaching for Severus’s hands to examine them for cuts and burns, to heal them if necessary.

Severus pulled his hands out of Harry’s reach and got to his feet, backing away from Harry.

“Leave it,” Severus said. “Just go.”

“No.”

“Dammit, Harry! This cannot work. Surely your feeble brain can wrap itself around that simple concept.”

“Why can’t it work?” Harry said, advancing on Severus. They’d had this conversation before, six months ago.

“Don’t be daft. I’m not… I can’t…” Severus’s eyes were wild, panicky.

“You’re afraid,” Harry observed, surprised he hadn’t realized it before.

Severus swallowed, turned away, leaned his forehead against the wall. “You deserve so much better than… this… than me.”

Anger flared in Harry’s gut. “What about you, Severus? What do you deserve?” he asked, his voice taunting, dangerous.

Harry reached around Severus, grabbed his wrists, and yanked them up over Severus’s head, holding them against the wall. Then he pushed his entire body flush against Severus’s backside, intentionally crowding the man into the wall as well.

Severus went rigid and tried to jerk out of Harry’s grasp, but Harry held tight.

“What do you deserve, Severus?” Harry hissed. “Do you deserve this?” Harry asked, shoving himself harder against Severus, capturing him, holding him prisoner, pushing him farther than was probably wise.

Severus shivered and let out a strangled cry. “Let me go,” he rasped, his breathing rapid, his pulse racing, his voice choked.

“Tell me,” Harry jeered, “tell me what you feel. Right now. What are you feeling?”

“I… Don’t…” Severus was trembling all over. “Please. Stop. Don’t… Don’t do this to me. Please.”

Harry rubbed against Severus more intimately. “Do you feel my erection, Severus? Do you feel it pressed against you?”

“Stop,” Severus said, his voice desperate.

“DO YOU?” Harry bellowed.

Severus stilled, paying attention.

Harry rubbed against his backside some more.

“I… no…” Severus said in a whisper. “I don’t feel it.”

“That’s because I don’t have one. I’m not turned on by rape.” Harry released Severus’s wrists and they dropped to the trembling man’s sides. He took a tiny step backward, allowing a bit of space between their bodies.

“I have no desire to hurt you, Severus. None.”

Severus’s shoulders shook as he took in great, heaving breaths.

“And I’m not in any hurry either. For anything.”

Severus made a wounded sound.

“I just want to be with you, Severus. Whatever that looks like.”

Severus jammed a fist in his mouth.

“I won’t leave you, Severus. Not because of this. Not because of anything.” Harry took a deep breath, and chanced leaning his forehead against Severus’s back, between his shoulder blades. “It seems you’re rather stuck with me.”

At those words, Severus spun around and let out a howl of pain as he reached for Harry.

Harry crushed the hurting man to his chest and held him tight, letting Severus sob into his shoulder. Eventually, they slid down the wall to the floor, with Severus shaking in Harry’s arms as Harry stroked his hair and whispered words of reassurance to this shattered man whom he’d come to love.

When Severus had recovered sufficiently, he pulled himself into a sitting position, looking both abashed and ashamed. Severus made to turn away from Harry, but Harry reached for his chin, pulling Severus’s gaze to his.

“Don’t you dare,” Harry said. “Don’t you dare run away from me. I won’t let you. I’m here, and I’m staying, and so are you.”

Severus snorted, swallowing heavily and taking a moment to regain his composure. “Demanding little brat, aren’t you.”

“Damn right,” Harry said, leaning forward to kiss Severus on the forehead. Then he got to his feet and offered Severus his hand. “Come on, let’s get up. I could use some breakfast and a shower.”


	3. Chapter 3

Harry awoke to warm rays of sunlight streaming in through the enchanted window in Severus’s bed chamber, along with even warmer fingers dancing lightly across his chest. Winter had made way for Spring and with it came a heady dose of hope and hormones. Harry smiled and moaned softly, letting Severus know he was awake. Severus’s fingers stilled, questioning.

“Don’t stop on my account,” Harry said around a yawn. “It’s quite a nice way to wake up.”

“I wouldn’t know,” a deep voice said next to him, fingers resuming their exploration.

Harry turned his eyes to meet the man’s gaze. “We could change that, you know.”

Severus looked uncertain and Harry caught Severus’s hand in his, bringing it to his lips and kissing the man’s fingertips.

“There’s no hurry, Severus.”

“If you want… I understand…” Severus stammered.

Harry lowered Severus’s hand back to Harry’s chest and reached out to put his fingers against Severus’s lips. “Shhh… there’s no rush. Honest. I am just happy to be here with you.”

“Would you let me know if you weren’t?” Severus asked.

“I let you know when I didn’t like how you hogged all the covers, didn’t I?” Harry teased.

“I wouldn’t call pushing me out of bed ‘letting me know’ exactly.”

Harry laughed. “I don’t know, I thought it did the trick quite nicely. You haven’t hogged the covers since.”

Severus scowled then looked throughtful. “I wouldn’t mind if you… touched me more,” Severus admitted.

Harry grinned and reached out, running his fingers along the planes of Severus’s face. Severus leaned into his touch. He’d been summoned four more times since that night. He’d returned, bruised and bloodied, and often suffering the after effects of the Cruciatus curse, but he hadn’t been raped again since that night. That dubious ‘honor’ had fallen to other Death Eaters who had displeased their master.

Still, each time Severus returned, Harry found himself needing to make up ground with the man. Not that he minded so much. It hurt more to see Severus lose a piece of himself every time he had to bow down to that madman. Harry pushed those thoughts aside and rolled closer to Severus.

“I love the way your skin feels under my fingers,” Harry murmured. He’d learned that Severus seemed more able to handle being touched if Harry talked while he did so. “And I love the way you lean into my touch.”

Severus closed his eyes and murmured in approval.

Harry scooted a little closer. He slid his fingers into Severus’s hair, which the man seemed to like most of all. “Your hair is softer than I ever imagined it would be. Nice and silky. I love sliding it between my fingers,” Harry said, demonstrating what he meant.

“I like yours, too,” Severus replied, raising a hand to card through Harry’s hair as well.

Harry continued to stroke Severus’s long black tresses as he said, “I like the feel of your breath on my lips. It’s so warm and comforting.”

Severus’s eyes snapped open, as if unaware that Harry was so close.

“All right?” Harry asked, continuing to gently stroke the man’s hair.

Severus swallowed, then nodded.

“Want me to back off?” Harry asked.

“No,” Severus breathed. “Just give me a minute.”

Harry closed his eyes and focused on the feel of Severus’s hair sliding like water through his fingers, cool and soothing.

And then, oh… soft lips were touching his, tentatively exploring, and Harry opened his eyes, smiling. “You feel very nice,” he whispered against Severus’s lips, happy to see the nervousness ease in Severus’s gaze. “I like the way you kiss me.”

Harry eased onto his back, letting Severus’s lips chase his. He wanted Severus to feel in control, wanted to let the man explore at his leisure.

And, much to Harry’s surprise, Severus did.

* * *

It wasn’t until that summer, after Severus had explored most of Harry’s body with fingers and lips and tongue, that he allowed Harry to return the favor. Harry yearned to give Severus even half the pleasure the other man gave him, but Severus was skittish and far more comfortable pleasuring Harry than accepting pleasure himself.

Harry was careful to hide his frustration at this, not wanting to drive the man away or make him feel guilty. It was just that, as on the night Harry was determined to kiss Severus, Harry knew that Severus would love it. If only Severus would give Harry a chance.

That chance came, surprisingly, after a Death Eater meeting.

Harry was waiting up in bed, reading a book, when Severus stomped through the bedroom and into the bathroom, tearing off his robe and mask as he went.

“Severus?” Harry asked, getting up from bed.

“I’m fine,” Severus called over his shoulder. “I just need to shower.”

Harry bit back the questions he really wanted to ask: Are you injured? Are you really all right?

Severus stepped out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist, his hair still wet.

“Show me,” Severus demanded, his eyes blazing.

Harry sat up and shifted to the edge of the bed, his feet now on the floor, not sure what Severus was on about.

“Show me,” Severus said again, and this time, he let the towel fall from his hips to pool on the floor at his feet.

“Sev?” Harry questioned.

Severus stepped forward, practically shoving his groin in Harry’s face. His fists were clenched at his sides, his eyes screwed shut. “Touch me. Suck me. _Show me._ ”

Harry caught his breath. He wanted to say, _Are you sure?_ , but he knew that would be insulting to the man. Instead, he said, “Open your eyes. I want you to watch me.” _I want you to know it’s me._

Severus gaze flashed to Harry’s.

Harry lifted his hand and trailed his fingers along the front of Severus’s hip. Severus wasn’t hard yet but, at Harry’s touch, his member twitched. Harry smiled and placed a soft kiss next to Severus’s navel. Then he trailed several more kisses down Severus’s abdomen, tracing the indentations of his hipbones with fingers and lips and tongue.

Severus’s breath hitched and his legs began to shake. The man reached out to hold onto one of the columns of the four-poster bed.

“Do you want to lie down?” Harry asked.

“No,” Severus breathed. “Not yet.”

Harry nodded and returned to his exploration. Severus was trembling, likely more with nerves than with need. But Harry planned to change that.

Gently he lifted Severus’s half-erect member and guided it to his lips. He blew gently on it, before placing soft kisses along its length. As it grew, Harry traced the velvety texture with his tongue and drew soft fingers down the man’s sides.

Severus’s body was still rigid, tense, unsure.

Harry reached out and grasped Severus’s free hand, placing it against his chest, over his heart, before slowly taking the tip of Severus’s burgeoning erection into the warm wetness of his mouth.

Severus’s breath caught but still the man held back, as if holding onto control would keep him safe.

“Relax, love, I won’t hurt you,” Harry breathed against Severus’s hardening flesh. “I promise.”

Severus let out a long breath as Harry drew his tongue along the length of Severus’s erection.

Harry hummed his appreciation as he tasted Severus’s spicy, warm flesh, reveling in its texture and scent, smiling as he elicited tiny sounds of pleasure from the anxious man.

“I love the way you taste,” Harry murmured, sliding a hand down to cup Severus’s bollocks. Severus stiffened at that, so Harry let go, sliding his hand to the man’s thighs and stroking him there instead until he relaxed again.  

Harry wrapped his hand around the base and guided Severus deep into his mouth. Severus let his head fall back as he bit back a moan, thrilling Harry to no end. Harry felt his own erection straining against his pants, but he ignored it.

Slowly, Harry dipped his tongue into Severus’s slit, causing Severus to buck in surprise. Harry grinned, and did it again, tasting precum and moaning right along with Severus. Then Harry swirled his tongue around Severus’s foreskin, sucking softly.

Harry felt the hand over his heart contract, nails digging mindlessly into Harry’s chest. Harry hummed and slid Severus deeper into his mouth, sucking and savoring with every stroke of his tongue, his lips, his mouth.

“Harry…” Severus breathed, and this time, the word held wonder and need and trust.

Harry added another hand to Severus’s shaft, encasing it fully as he slid Severus in and out, creating a rhythm that had Harry himself thrusting into thin air.

“Oh… Yes… Harry… YES!” Severus’s hand slid from Harry’s chest to his hair, fingers threaded into Harry’s locks, holding on tight.

Encouraged, Harry took him deeper still, first sliding one hand over to Severus’s hip, and then the other, steadying the man as Harry took Severus’s whole length deep into his mouth all at once.

The hand wrapped in Harry’s hair clenched convulsively as Severus’s hips began to thrust. “Harry… I… I’m going to… I can’t…”

Harry squeezed Severus’s hips in reassurance, taking him as deep as he could, sucking harder, relishing in the rocking of the man’s hips.

Harry moaned against Severus’s flesh, pulling Severus’s hips toward him, encouraging him with sound and touch and acceptance, wanting more than anything for Severus to trust him, to let go.

And then Severus cried out, his body jerking spastically before he bucked once, twice, three times, his release finally bursting free.

Harry swallowed around his smile, taking every last drop from the man he loved, wringing every last sound of pleasure from the man’s lips. He let Severus go soft in his mouth as Harry stroked Severus’s sides and hips and legs, reassurance and adoration in every touch.

Finally, Harry let Severus’s spent member fall between them as he wrapped his arms around Severus’s waist and held him tight, and tighter still.

Severus still stood, one hand grasping the bedpost, the other on Harry’s shoulder. His head was bowed, his legs shook, and his breathing was ragged.

Harry looked up, hoping that Severus could see the love shining in Harry’s eyes for him. “Want to lie down?” Harry asked.

Severus nodded, side-stepped Harry, and collapsed face-down onto the bed, his legs hanging over the edge.

Harry chuckled as he crawled up alongside Severus and lay beside him, running his fingers along the dewy skin of older wizard’s back.

When Severus finally turned his head to look at Harry, he looked chagrined. “Sorry,” he mumbled, “I didn’t mean to lose control like that.”

“I’m glad you did,” Harry said honestly. “I loved every minute of it.” Harry brought his fingers to Severus’s lips and traced them as he said, “You taste exquisite.”

Severus looked startled. “I do?”

“You do,” Harry assured him. He’d have offered to kiss Severus, to let Severus taste himself on Harry’s tongue, but Harry didn’t want to push it.

Harry slid a lock of hair out of Severus’s eyes and said, sincerely, “Thank you.”

Severus looked taken aback. “For what?”

“For letting me show you. I’ve wanted to for a long time, you know.”

Severus glanced away.

Harry took him by the chin, pulling his gaze back. “Not for me, silly,” he chided. “I wanted to do it for you. I wanted you to feel how amazing it can be.”

“I… yes, I…” Severus stammered.

“Shhh,” Harry said, placing his lips against Severus’s and kissing gently, chastely. “You don’t need to say anything. Not to me.” Then he pulled Severus into his arms and held him, held him as tightly as Severus was suddenly holding on to him.

Harry placed a kiss atop Severus’s head, holding him in his arms until Severus drifted off to sleep. Gently, Harry tugged the man up higher on the bed, fitting a pillow beneath his head and pulling the blankets and covers up over them both before drifting to sleep beside the man, a smile on Harry’s lips.


	4. EPILOGUE

 

**_SEVERUS:_  **

Severus sits at the small table, breakfast long since cold and forgotten, staring at the photo. It’s one of his favorites: Harry, the winter before the war. It’s a grey day, all overcast skies and dirty snow. The photo looks almost black and white, save for Harry’s burgundy Quidditch robes and the spots of color on his cheeks. He’s laughing, eyes closed, arms outstretched on the broom, as he speeds forward, dives, rolls, and rights himself again.

Severus grips the edges of the frame in one hand, running the fingers of his other hand along the picture-Harry’s cheek. As if he can feel the heat there, as if the smile is for him and him alone.

In the picture, Harry looks carefree and happy in a way he hasn’t since the war, now all residual curse pain and battered muscles and bones that even Severus’s strongest pain potions can’t erase.

Every night in the hospital wing, Severus massages healing salves into Harry’s skin, trying to coax the young man back to health. Severus persists until he can no longer stand Harry’s thready breaths of pain, his young limbs trembling in agony. Then he gathers Harry into his arms, holding him tight, whispering words of comfort, making promises he doesn’t know how he’ll keep. No one understands the damage the Dark Lord did to Harry Potter; no one knows how to heal him.

Severus longs to give Harry back the carefree freedom he sees so clearly in this photo of a boy-not-quite-man. He’d do anything for this man he loves—this stubborn, foolish, courageous creature who’s stolen past all of Severus Severus’s well-built defenses.

After breakfast, after brewing any potions Harry needs, Severus spends his days in the hospital wing with the young man, working with the healers and the therapists, trying to strengthen Harry’s magic and Harry’s body. Helping Harry to regain his strength after Voldemort nearly cost Harry his life, and Severus’s too—if not in body, then in soul.

Severus can’t imagine a life without Harry—colder and darker than any winter day.

And so he vows to give Harry his smile back. He vows it to the very depths of his soul. Even if he has absolutely no idea how he’ll do it. He owes Harry that much, and so much more. He owes Harry everything.

 

* * *

_**HARRY** :_

It’s nearly Christmas and the needy bloke is buggering me senseless. Not that I’m complaining; there’s no place in the world I’d rather be. The students have all gone home for the holidays. Severus’s dark mark doesn’t burn anymore, not after I killed _The Bastard_ two months ago. A month in the hospital wing and I’m nearly as good as new.

My near death wrought a change in Severus. He doesn’t hide his emotions so much anymore. He doesn’t let his fears hold him back as much anymore either.

He doesn’t like to let me out of his sight these days. His lingering touches and kisses follow me wherever I go.

“Worry wart,” I call him, and he just gives me this strange, pained look, as if to say: _I almost lost you once, I’m not going to risk losing you again._

When I go out to give speeches or dedications or interviews, he comes with me. Never in the spotlight, always in the background, watching my back, waiting to catch me if I fall, or falter.

“I love you,” I whisper as he moves deep inside of me. He doesn’t say it much, not aloud anyway, but I know that he does. I feel it in the way he touches me, as if I’m some exquisite creature to be cherished beyond all reason. It’s in the way he gazes at me when he thinks I’m not looking. It’s in the way his fingers trace adoration over my skin. It’s enough.

It took us awhile to get to this point, but I don’t mind. We almost got here before the war. And then he was called away. He didn’t return—couldn’t return—until after the war. Longest two weeks of my life. And afterward, I think it bothered him. Bothered him that he’d almost lost me without ever letting me know he loved me.

He made up for that when I was better. It’s not that he hasn’t been able to keep his hands off of me—he’s still the same reserved man he always was. It’s just that when he does touch me, when we do make love, he is present in a way he’s never allowed himself to be before. He’s one hundred percent in the moment. I imagine him chanting _No Regrets_ over and over in his mind.

I cling to him, our bodies slick with sweat, as he rocks into me, chest to chest, his fingers tight on my shoulders, his cheek pressed to mine.

“Oh… yes…” I breathe, “Oh... Severussss…. Yesss….”

The words slip from my lips, a stream of unintelligible babble as my hands tighten around his hips, canting mine to pull him in deeper, needing him closer.

He keens and thrusts faster, my name spilling from his lips.

“Harry.”

I drink it in, sucking his breath, his tongue into my mouth, feeling him moan against my lips.

_Let go,_ I think. _I’ve got you, you’re safe._ But I don’t have to say the words anymore, not since after the war. Not since I almost died. Not since he took me in his arms the day they released me from the hospital wing, took me to his bed, and loved me like I’d never been loved before.

Now he’s the one urging me to let go, let go of my mind, let go of my body.

Our lips break apart as my head falls back. I cry out, rising to meet him, wanting him as deep as possible inside of me as I climax, coating the space between us in hot jets of fluid, bonding us together. And then he’s jerking frantically to meet me, coming with soft gasps and moans, his breath hot on my neck, his lips a brand against my skin. We stay locked together like that, rocking softly into each other, wanting to hold onto the moment as long as possible.

“Love you, Severus,” I breathe, coming down off the high of our lovemaking. “Merlin, I love you.”

I doubt he’s heard me. It wasn’t more than a slight exhalation of breath. But it doesn’t matter. The words are as much a part of my release as they are a declaration to him.

Spent and sated, he collapses on top of me, his breathing harsh, his chest heaving against mine. I cradle him to me, thanking the stars that this heady, strong man, this battered, fragile soul, is entrusted to me for safekeeping. As I am to him.

Eventually, he rolls off of me, lies on his back, tries to catch his breath. He pulls me to him. I lie on my side, snug up against him, as I do each night. My head is pillowed in the hollow where his shoulder meets his chest, one arm draped across his ribs, one leg across his thigh. He reaches down to pull the sheets and blankets up over us both, kissing me on the top of my head as he settles in to sleep.

My eyes are closed as I drift happily, satisfied and relaxed.

When his words come, I barely hear them, caught as they are between awareness and dreams.

“I love you, too, Harry. More than you’ll ever know.”

~FIN~

**Author's Note:**

> There is now an Outtake for Dark Charm that explains how Harry was healed!


End file.
